


In Triplicate

by Hildigunnur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Comedy, Fluff, Harry Potter Next Generation, Kid Fic, Multi, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, The Quidditch Pitch: Three of Hearts, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-03
Updated: 2007-09-03
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hildigunnur/pseuds/Hildigunnur
Summary: There are three pairs of eyes watching the trio and their lives.





	In Triplicate

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015.
> 
> **Author's notes:** **Written before Deathly Hallows was published.** Written 2007 for Reversathon on LJ for sea0tter12. Beta-ed by sarka.

It was in the quiet time right before sunrise that Pigwidgeon found the field where his master and his friends were staying. The air was slowly losing dampness as the dew drops formed on the grass and the plants. The tent was on the edge of the field, which was separated from the village of Godric's Hollow by a small forest. The field was otherwise empty, not even a farm animal grazing.

Pidwidgeon was uncharacteristically silent on his approach to the tent but then again, he knew the gravity of the situation. He perched silently on top of the tent, wondering whether he should wait until the occupants would wake or if he should quietly make his presence known.

He heard muffled voices but caught himself before he hooted. There was something in the tone of their voices that told him they wouldn't want to be interrupted. His understanding of human speech didn't go deep but he sensed the underlying current of urgency and importance in the conversation.

"Enough is enough, Harry. This is hardly fair to us. How many times do we have to tell you that we're both in it for the long haul? We won't be any safer leaving you now." Hermione spoke hurriedly and Pigwidgeon could hear his master agreeing with her speech.

Having fine sense of timing, he also noticed that Harry took his time in replying to Hermione.

"I know." Harry sounded a little bit defeated.

"And yet you keep pushing us away."

"I..." He seemed to be unable to answer Hermione's question.

"You're not giving up, are you?" This was his master and his voice held an array of emotions, quivering like it was breaking.

There was a palpable tension in the silence that followed and Pigwidgeon could sense his master's and Hermione's spirits sinking.

"Harry..." There was a sound of rustling as Hermione reached for Harry's hand.

"I can't..." He tried to turn away.

"Can't do what, Harry? Stay with us? You can't fight?" His master's voice was almost inaudible.

"I... I... I'm scared."

"We're scared too, Harry." Hermione talked a bit louder than was necessary, perhaps to try to disguise the tremor in her voice.

"I'm scared to be alone." The tone of Harry's voice suggested that he was trying to discreetly fight back his friends' efforts to reach out to him.

"Then why are you pushing us away?" Hermione had clearly become frustrated. "You know better than us that we have to survive on a day-to-day basis right now. We can't worry about what might happen in the future."

Harry drew a very shaky breath - like he was gathering courage.

"I feel alone now. With you."

"Harry..." Hermione started automatically but appeared to catch herself before declaring that Harry was being silly.

"What do you mean _'with us'_?" There was a strong hint of tenacity in his master's voice, so strong that Pigwidgeon felt almost compelled to answer the question himself.

"Ron..." Harry clearly didn't want to elaborate.

"You mean that you feel alone because Hermione and I are together?"

"I..." Harry's voice broke completely before he could finish his answer but Pigwidgeon could sense that his master had struck a nerve.

"But we... we're not really doing any couple stuff." Hermione sounded exasperated.

"It's not about that, not really. I mean, you have each other in that way and I... I've managed to screw up every chance I've had to find something like that. Like Ginny." The tone of Harry's voice grew darker.

"But Harry, we've really pushed that aside, it was really just at Bill's and Fleur's wedding and then we decided you, the Horcruxes and just everything were much more important than... you know." The last words of Hermione’s sentence appeared to have been punctuated by a dramatic gesture.

"That isn't what's bothering you, is it, Harry?" His master’s voice was unusually soft.

"No." Harry's answer was muffled, like he was covering his mouth with his hands.

"Then what is?" Hermione was definitely annoyed by now.

"Hermione..." Pigwidgeon perceived the caution in his master's voice.

"It's all right, Ron. I think you deserve to know - I'll understand though if you want to leave when you hear..."

"Harry, don't be ridiculous..."

"Let him to finish."

"Thank you, Ron. You see, I feel alone because I don't have you both completely."

"What do you mean..."

"Let him finish, Hermione."

"I want to be a part... I want to be with… " He couldn't finish.

"You mean... you want to be with us." Hermione's voice was ripe with emotion but there was a clear thread of hope in it.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said anything... I’m sorry I ruined..."

"Harry, you haven't ruined anything." There was loud rustle inside the tent and Pigwidgeon was certain his master was moving over to Harry.

"No, you haven't at all," Hermione added in a soft voice.

They stopped speaking but Pigwidgeon stayed perched on the top of the tent, knowing he would have to wait a little longer to let his presence be known.

~~~~  
  
Crookshanks had a favourite spot in the flat to lie on. Unfortunately, he hardly ever got to lie there and it aggravated him that he, the part-kneazle, could have been stupid enough to have picked the deep armchair in the master bedroom as his favourite spot.

It all simply boiled down to the laws of biology, as it was natural for people in a three-way relationship to have more-frequent-than-average sex.

So Crookshanks was forced to occupy his second favourite spot in the flat most of the time. It wasn't bad; it was a pillow not far from the fireplace. It was nice and warm there in winter and it was also a prime spot to view in- and out-going firecalls. He was, after all, a curious cat.

Though not curious enough to attempt to stay in his favourite spot when his owner and her men felt amorous.

Humans were funny with their libido. It was obvious that all their randiness could hardly be caused by Mother Nature's wish for them to breed. Otherwise, Harry and Ron wouldn't be trying to mount each other almost every waking minute. His owner was also disconcertingly lustful but she was also practical and knew she could live through a whole day without having an orgasm, even a whole week. (Though it had been a hellish week at the flat when she had attempted that and Crookshanks had contemplated running away.)

He had worried about his mistress when he had learned that she was not just romantically involved with Ron but also with Harry. At first glance, giving her heart to two men at once appeared to be folly, as it doubled the chance of a broken heart and Crookshanks had witnessed his mistress cry over boys too many times. She had definitely shed too many tears over Ron but Crookshanks had been sensible enough to know that he would grown up in the end and stop being an insensitive, immature git. Cormac McLaggen, on the other hand, had deserved to have his school work regularly stolen and either buried in Hagrid's pumpkin patch or sacrificed to the giant squid.

Thankfully his mistress' heart was still intact and the boys took good care of her. Ron gave her foot rubs almost every day when she returned home from standing all day at the spell lab and Harry always saw to it that she wasn't staying awake at night over documents she brought home with her from work.

Still, they were only human, and their lives didn't simply revolve around hot sex and foot rubs. One of the reasons why Crookshanks favoured the arm chair in the bedroom was that it was a safe distance from the living room when the three of them were fighting. A major downside to living in a magical household was how quick wizards were to use their wands and hex each other. Since Crookshanks wished never to find out what it felt like to wear antlers or how he would look like with green fur, he was usually quick to hide when his mistress' eyebrows became dangerously furrowed, Ron's ears turned that alarming shade of red or when Harry's knuckles became so white that it looked like all the blood had drained from them.

Most of the time though, the Granger-Potter-Weasley household was a harmonious one and the only thing that appeared to be lacking, if the constant questions by family and friends - and probably even strangers - was anything to go by, was the pitter-patter of tiny feet. Crookshanks, who was sardonic by nature, was amused by the answer Harry usually gave when he was particularly pestered by that question. (He didn't dare to say it to Molly Weasley, though.)

_"But we already have the pitter-patter of tiny feet. Crookshanks has rather dainty feet."_

And to help Harry illustrate the point, Crookshanks usually got up as he said it and pranced around, taking care to look particularly smug.

Being as smart as he was, though, he knew that the peace would be out before long. He saw how much Ron enjoyed playing with his nieces and nephews when they were over, the soft look in his mistress' eyes when she held the newborn offspring of her brothers-in-law and the wistful look on Harry's face when he observed those scenes. Oh yes, the trio were becoming broody and he was witnessing it more and more every day.

It was one thing when his mistress was attempting to improve her knitting skills by knitting very mismatched boots and using him as a fitting model for tiny hats and scarves. He could suffer the indignity of that as long as there was no one to witness it, especially not Pigwidgeon or Hedwig. It was worse that he was being completely barred from resting in the comfy arm chair - at least as soon as they came home from work and entirely on weekends. They took the babymaking very seriously, though Crookshanks had to wonder about Harry's and Ron's knowledge of biology at times. It could be possible that they had just become hornier, though he had previously believed that to be impossible. A lot of his problems would be solved if humans just went into heat regularly like other respectable animals.

Soon enough his mistress' belly began to grow in size, but to Crookshanks' surprise and dismay, there was even less frequent access to the nice arm chair. Who knew that women could be so amorous during gestation?

He had to accept it: the time of relative quiet in his niche of the world was rapidly running out and soon the pitter-patter of tiny feet - well, smallish feet; they certainly would be bigger than his - would fill it. And for some reason his tail already hurt at the thought.

~~~~

Hedwig knew very well why it was usually her and not Pigwidgeon who delivered and brought back letters, to and from Hogwarts. It wasn't that Hermione, Harry and Ron didn't trust Pig. It was rather the fact that she couldn't be persuaded with owl treats to return without a letter from Sirius and Jamie, and she would also remind Lily that she was allowed to look up from the homework.

Hermione's mother hen instincts hadn't surprised Hedwig at all - after all she had taken care of Harry and Ron throughout their friendship and subsequent relationship. Harry's and Ron's fatherly concern wasn't such a revelation either but the manifestation thereof could probably cause others to raise their eyebrows.

The envelope Hedwig dropped into the lap of the slender girl with a mass of black curls on her head and a prefect badge fastened very discreetly on her jumper where it could be hidden by her hair contained a single sheet of parchment filled with big and rather boyish writing.

_Princess,_

_Your mother says I must congratulate you on the excellent marks you got on your History of Magic essay. You know I'm proud of you always, even if you don't know that Gunhilda of Gorsemoor had only one eye._  
  
And to answer the question in your letter, I know it can be hard when people give your grief over things like your family. Your mother, Harry and I all went through it when we were at school. Your mother reminded us often to ignore them though I was rather slow on the uptake. I was rather prone to try to hex or beat up those who insulted my family or my friends. You are lucky you don't have the Weasley temper in your genes, I tell you. The Granger huffiness and the Potter grouchiness is more than enough for one girl. 

_You know all that._

_There are always going to be narrow-minded people who think that by criticizing others, they will look better in comparison. I know you know this but I also know that me telling you this doesn't change the fact that you can be hurt by people finding fault with your family. I remember that all too well myself. Even though I always thought that my main detractor was a twit, it hurt when he called Granny Molly fat and made fun of us being poor._

_I feel a bit silly telling you all this because I think, that like your mother, you must know everything. But you are still just 15 and I know that at 15 you don't know everything and at 40 you'll know even less._

_Remember that we at home all love you. Sirius and Jamie love you too, though they probably don't show it much._

_Love,  
Ron Dad._

The next letter was dropped off on the head of a sleeping redheaded boy who certainly shouldn't have been sleeping at the Gryffindor house table at breakfast, even if it was a Saturday.

_Hello Sirius,_

_I've a long laundry list of things that your mother would like me to remind you of. So hereby you are reminded._

_And yes, I'm going to be a boring dad and say that I'll tell you all about the Shrieking Shack later. You know, you could have asked me about this last summer but I promise I will tell you. After all, it was I who insisted you were called Sirius and not telling you your namesake's entire story (at least the parts I know of) would be frankly stupid._

_Be nice to your sister. Pay attention in class (as much as you can) and no, I'm not sending you an autographed picture to give to Neil Creevey (Who is his dad by the way?) and no, you can't sell him this letter. And no, we are not sending you a broomstick (in your shoes, I would wait and see what I'd get for Christmas)._

_Love,  
Daddy Harry_

It vexed Hedwig greatly that she had to look for the last recipient of the letters from home. She couldn't see his little red head anywhere in the Great Hall. Usually he could be found next to his twin brother but not now.

Where had he gone off to?

The possibilities were endless as his inquisitive nature and slight absentmindedness had already landed him in trouble more than once. Hedwig had heard Hermione cite the 'Great Jamie Vanishing Act of 2011 in Romania' - at a dragon reservation - to be the most horrifying moment of her life, but she had often come close to repeating the experience. She had finally given up and made a pocket watch version of the old Weasley clock which let her keep rough track of the whereabouts and situation of her youngest child (by half an hour).

Thankfully, young Jamie was just asleep in his dormitory instead of exploring the rooftops of Hogwarts like the last time Hedwig had to find him. With a light nibble on his earlobe she woke him and left his mother's letter with him.

_My loveliest Jamie,_

_Mummy misses you and Sirius and Lily very much. Ron Dad and Daddy Harry have started to complain that Mummy is now mothering them. I've always done that and they haven't complained (much) before._  
  
I hope you are staying on the top of your homework. It is not a bad idea to get some extra reading materials from the library to read when you find an idle moment. You don't have to start with 'Hogwarts; A History', you could read an article or two in 'Transfiguration Today' and work up from there. If in doubt, ask Lily, but don't pester her. The fifth year is very tough and she needs to concentrate, not to mention her prefect duties. I know this might sound unfair but please listen to Mummy on this. 

_Please write soon back home._

_Love,  
Mummy_

Hedwig waited patiently for the sleepy boy to finish the letter, then departed with a reminding hoot before flying up to the owl tower. All the letters home would be ready in about a week - unless there was a Quidditch match, then the weeks would end up being two.

_-fin_


End file.
